


Comforts of Home

by YamBits



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Bondage, M/M, Massage, Masturbation Mentioned, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Praise Kink, Pre-Quest, Samfro Week, Samfro Week Winter 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21918580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamBits/pseuds/YamBits
Summary: Sam returns home after being away for a month, working in the South Farthing, and gets a warm welcome from Frodo.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 11
Kudos: 158
Collections: Winter 2019





	Comforts of Home

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Illegible_Scribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illegible_Scribble/pseuds/Illegible_Scribble) in the [Winter_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Winter_2019) collection. 



> Prompt: Comfort
> 
> For Wednesday, December 21st.

Sam pushed himself down the lonely dark path, the wind whipping around him and spitting spray into his face. He winced and pulled his coat up around his cheeks, but the spray still stung his eyes. No matter. He lifted his gaze and saw outlined on the horizon the Hill and the shape of the leafless oak perched above. And dimly, he could see smoke rising from the chimney. He shivered and walked towards it, his heart leaping at the familiar shape of home.

He’d been gone for more than a month, helping his uncle and brother with the hemp harvest and then the laying and drying of the crop before they hauled it into the sheds for retting. Compared with his usual gardening it had been exhausting and monotonous work. Sam was deeply glad to have it behind him.

He’s meant to stop by Number Three before going up the Hill, but he was later than he’d meant to be, and his father would be asleep by now. Besides, he was so tired and ached so to be home. The wind was picking up again, and Sam groaned, drawing his shoulders up and tucked his face down.

 _Just get home,_ he thought, _that’s all I want now._ The minutes crawled by and he ached with the cold, but it was easy to fall into the rhythm of his steps. The cold bit, and the wind cut him, but his body was growing so numb that he didn’t feel much of it. Before he knew it, he was hauling himself up the brick steps to the round door. He reached out with frozen fingers and turned the knob, drawing himself inside.

The hall was dark, but there was light further in, reflecting off the polished floor. He sighed in relief to be out of the wind and shut the door behind him. He went to the hall coat rack and unwound his scarf, hanging it up.

He heard footfalls and turned to see Frodo enter the hall from the kitchen. Frodo’s face lit with joy and he hurried down to him.

“Sam!” he cried, nearly slipping in his haste, and threw his arms around him.

“Ah!” Sam sighed and held him close, too exhausted for more.

“Oh! You’re cold!” Frodo held him tight, “I didn’t expect you for another day at least!”

“I finished early. Uncle Andy and Hamson had enough help to finish up with harvest, so I started back. Was fair sure the weather was about to turn, and lor’, I was right on that count,” he laughed, wearily.

“And you walked through it,” Frodo frowned and cupped Sam’s face. Warm hands on cold cheeks. Sam felt like melting, despite Frodo’s sternness. “Stubborn hobbit.”

“Homesick hobbit,” Sam murmured. Frodo’s expression softened and he stepped back, slipping around behind to help Sam with his coat.

“Are you hungry?” he asked gently, “I’ve just made soup. Or do you need to rest?”

“If I lay down I’ll fall asleep, and I’m not wanting that yet,” Sam murmured. Frodo hummed, and walked around to stand before him once more. “What I want most is to hold onto you a bit more.” He felt tears spring up into his eyes, hot. Frodo moved close and embraced him again, looking up into his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I will be,” Sam sniffed, surprised at himself as he tightened his arms around Frodo and tucked his face down. Frodo stood with him in the hall, quiet and patient, running his hand up and down Sam’s back. At last, Sam drew back, and bowed his head. “My family can be a bit much,” he explained. Frodo looked rueful.

“I understand that well enough,” he sighed.

“Ah, that you do,” Sam murmured, reaching up to run his hand through Frodo’s soft curls. Frodo leaned into his touch, then stepped close to press a kiss to his lips.

“Do you want to go into the parlor?” Frodo asked. That was how Frodo asked if he wanted to cuddle. It was a nearly irresistible offer. Sam adored cuddling and he couldn’t get enough of Frodo’s touch. But he was also achingly hungry.

“Can we cuddle in the dining room and eat?” Sam asked. Frodo laughed, his cheeks pinking.

“Yes. Well, we can try.”

They sat together on the wood bench, and Frodo brought him a bowl of steaming lamb and potato stew and a mug of beer before he sat down beside him and wrapped himself around Sam, tucking his face into the back of his neck. Sam sighed in pleasure. The soup was splendid and almost as warming as Frodo’s embrace.

“You’re not going to eat?” Sam asked, sipping the beer. It was a thick dark stout that paired well with the lamb. Trust Frodo to know just what would taste the best and be the most warming on a night like tonight. Sam felt lightheaded with pleasure.

“I just finished when you came in,” Frodo murmured, “I was about to put the pot away. I’m glad I didn’t.”

“It’s so good!” Sam murmured, “where’d the lamb come from? The Proudfoot’s?”

“Yes. And the stout.”

“I knew that right enough. It’s perfect,” Sam sighed.

“I thought it sounded like something you would favor.”

Sam heard the smile in Frodo’s voice.

“Oh, I think you favor it too.”

“I adore stouts in winter,” Frodo agreed. Sam could feel his stress and aches easing. Gentle talk with Frodo had that effect on him. Always had.

“I tapped the barrel yesterday,” Frodo continued, “Invited your father and sisters up for a taste.”

“Mm. How are they? What’s been happening here?” Sam asked.

“They are well. And it’s been the same as always here,” Frodo murmured. Sam sighed as Frodo began to rub his back in slow circles.

“I had a letter from Marigold,” Sam smiled, “said as you had been taking good care of them. Said you looked after Dad when he come down with a cold.”

“Oh that? I hardly helped. Marigold had it well in hand. I just made a nuisance of myself, I think.”

“That’s not what Marigold said,” Sam turned his face to press his cheek to Frodo’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Frodo said quietly. Sam finished his soup and shifted his attention to finishing the beer. The food and drink was settling in his stomach, reviving him and pressing back much of his weariness.

“How was Tighfield?” Frodo asked gently.

“Wore me out. I’m not made for such,” Sam said.

“How is your poor hand?” Frodo asked. Sam had cut his hand on a scythe the first week and had mentioned it in one of his letters to Frodo.

“Healed up just fine,” Sam murmured. He’d got blisters too, despite wearing gloves, but he hadn’t mentioned those. “Hamson was a bit of an ass about it, though.”

“You were there helping him. That’s bad of him,” Frodo sighed.

“That’s just Hamson,” Sam murmured. Frodo hugged him. “Aunt Pen is well and Uncle Andy is well too. But he seems older than he ought. And that house is so quiet.”

“Oh?”

“Ever since Ginger got married, I think it’s been like that. They don’t talk to each other. Aside from everyday politeness.”

“Maybe they were quiet because you were there?” Frodo asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Sam frowned and sipped his beer. It hadn’t just been the quietness that got under his skin, but something oppressive that loomed over the household. Sam didn’t know how to describe it, not even to Frodo. He just knew that it felt horrible and cold and that it was the opposite of the warm loving home that he and Frodo had made together. And it made him miss it so deeply that he’d taken to escaping the house after supper for night walks- not something he was accustomed to doing- but it reminded him so of Frodo. And the nights were calm and peaceful and pleasant.

He turned in Frodo’s arms and raised a hand to touch his cheek. Frodo’s expression softened and he sighed, relishing Sam’s touch. Sam leaned in and kissed him, a proper solid kiss now that he was feeling better. Frodo wrapped his arms around him and deepened the kiss. Sam lost himself in the warm haze and sank into it.

When they parted, Frodo leaned up and kissed his nose and then his forehead. Sam opened his eyes and gaze up at him.

“I missed you so,” he said. Frodo cradled his head.

“I missed you too,” he said and stroked Sam’s cheek and peered at him. “Ready for the parlor now?”

“Ah, actually, I think I’m in need of a bath,” Sam murmured, rueful. Now that he was warm he could feel the grime and sweat and mud from his journey.

“I’ll run you a bath then,” Frodo said and kissed his cheek.

⁂

Sam leaned back in the tub, relishing the warmth. Frodo had put mineral salts in the water and Sam had spent long minutes soaking and relaxing to maximize the benefits. Then, he’d gotten himself cleaned up too- scrubbed himself and washed his hair.

Now as he stepped out of the tub, Frodo entered the room and went to the hanging towels.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“So much better,” Sam agreed, “It’s amazing the good a soak will do.” Frodo stepped around behind him and wrapped a warm soft towel around him, and began drying him. Sam straightened his spine and stretched his limbs as Frodo worked, the towel rubbing pleasantly along his skin.

“Mm,” Sam sighed, “you’re spoiling me.”

“I am welcoming you back,” Frodo said, “and caring for you after you walked through bitter cold to come home to me.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, a touch shy. He closed his eyes, warm and happy. Frodo finished and folded the towel, then went to drain the tub. Sam slipped into his bathrobe. It hung on the boiler side of the room, and so the fabric was warm.

“Come with me,” Frodo said, going to him and taking his arm.

“Ah? Have you something else for me?” Sam asked. Frodo grinned and didn’t answer.

As they entered the parlor, Sam drew in a breath. Frodo had laid pillows and a blanket down before the fireplace. On days when he came in aching, Frodo would pile up pillows like this and get him to strip down to his smallclothes and lie down for a rub. The first time Sam had thought it a little silly and he’d been shy about it, but Frodo’s hands pressing the aches away had soon made a believer of him. He firmly held that all the writing Frodo did made him particularly adept at this- strong sensitive hands, used to precise movements.

“Ah, you really are a spoiling me,” Sam murmured.

“It’s as much for me as it is for you, you know,” Frodo said quietly. Sam turned to blink at him. It hadn’t taken long for them to discover how deeply affected Frodo was by skin to skin contact. Sam had always had plenty of it in his everyday life; kisses from his sisters, hugs from his friends; his father’s arm around his shoulder when they went to the pub and sat on the bench together. Frodo had less of that sort of thing. His cousins and friends were affectionate with him but they weren’t around every day. Frodo had told him once, early in their courtship, that Sam’s touch filled him with a sense of wellbeing. A yearning to touch Frodo rose in him.

“I’ll love you tonight,” he said. Frodo melted, putting his arms around Sam.

“You are exhausted,” he murmured, kissing his cheek, “you needn’t push yourself now. You’ve been doing that all month, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Want to wait, when you’ll feel better?” Frodo asked gently.

“Yes,” Sam said, closing his eyes and tucking his face down against Frodo’s neck. Frodo held him a while longer, then eased away, bidding him to lie down. Sam stepped back and unlaced his robe while Frodo went to the fire and took the glass oil decanter from the bricks where he’d left it to warm. Sam folded the robe and lay it in a chair, standing bare now. Frodo gazed up at him and Sam felt himself stir, despite his exhaustion. He lay down on the pillows, hugging them under him and found a comfortable position. He blinked, sleepily and watched the fire light dance and shift before him and felt the radiant warmth on his skin.

They each of them had things like this that made them melt, and they made gifts of these things to one another. For Sam it was getting rubbed like this. And while Frodo enjoyed it when Sam returned the favor, there was another thing he liked even more. Sam had discovered it one day when Frodo had come back from town after a long meeting and had taken a bath. Sam sat with him and offered to wash his hair. He’d meant it as a sweetness, but mostly something useful to occupy his hands while they talked. As he worked, however, Frodo had soon left off talking and had instead leaned back, relishing the feeling of Sam’s hands on his scalp. He’d lay there in the water, trusting, as Sam carefully poured warm water over his head, mindful to keep soap from his eyes.

Frodo’s oiled hand lay flat and warm on his back. Sam’s eyes flicked open and he watched the fire dance and breathed in deeply. Frodo was using both hands, his fingers feeling out the shape of him, while his thumbs pressed in. Sam sighed. The hard repetitive field work had made him ache. At night he’d tried to press out some of the pain himself, but there was much he couldn’t reach and so he’d lay there hurting most nights.

“Sweet hobbit,” Frodo murmured, “does that feel good?”

“It’s perfect,” Sam sighed.

“Good. Tell me if I press too hard. You’ve got more knots than usual.”

“Mm,” Sam hummed and closed his eyes, letting himself relax and get lost in the feeling of Frodo’s hands on him. He wasn’t pressing as deep as he usually did, and that was probably for the best. Frodo worked on him for some time. His hands kneading up from the small of his back to his neck, his movements becoming smaller and more focused as he soothed the more delicate muscles. Sam let himself fall into the rhythm, drawing slow deep breaths as Frodo worked.

As he moved down to his shoulders, Frodo’s touch grew firmer, pressing down against a small spot near his shoulder blade. Sam drew in a breath and tried not to tense. It was the root of the pain, where he couldn’t reach, and it ached even now. Frodo maintained pressure as he moved in a smooth line along the muscle. Sam felt his breath catch. It hurt, but the pain was giving way as Frodo pressed out the knot.

“Mmm,” Sam groaned.

“Good hobbit,” Frodo murmured. Sam’s breath caught and he shivered. There was a soft amused snort from Frodo, but he didn’t comment further. Quiet spread between them as Frodo continued and Sam’s thoughts slowed, focused solely on Frodo’s touch.

He was lost to it. Sam may have dozed for some of it, but he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that Frodo could make him feel like he was floating. After some time Frodo drew back.

“How’s that?”

“That was very lovely,” Sam said, shifting himself up. Frodo smiled and leaned in to kiss him. The kiss stretched on, and Sam felt a stirring. The feeling of Frodo’s kiss, his touch, and even his smell, were all elements that his body has missed over the long nights apart. The stirring grew stronger as Frodo deepened the kiss and his grip on Sam’s back tightened.

The dinner and the massage had revived him, and now Sam’s body craved Frodo. He was breathing quicker, excitement growing within him as Frodo pressed him and rocked against his body.

Frodo drew back, his cheeks pink.

“Oh dear. I got a bit carried away, I think,” he placed a kiss to Sam’s cheek. “Sorry darling. I’ve just missed you so. I’ve missed this.” He embraced Sam, stroking his hair. “Are you ready for bed?”

Sam nodded, trying to gather his thoughts. Frodo gave him another small kiss and then went to bank the fire. Sam used one of the towels Frodo had laid out to pat at his back to dry any oil that might be left. Frodo hadn’t used more than he’d needed to though.

Sam slipped his robe on and together they went out into the hallway, Frodo stepping away to go and check that all was put away. Sam entered their bedroom and took a seat on the bed.

His fatigue had not returned, as he’d feared. He still felt energized and there was a gentle fire of lust smoldering within him. He breathed out, then stood and went to his chest of drawers, opening the top drawer.

He’d spent many nights the past month curled in his small cold bed, furtively tugging at his cock, imagining himself and Frodo together, doing one thing or another. When he’d spilled he’d had to bite down on a cry. He hadn’t had to stifle himself in a long time. He wouldn’t have to stifle himself now.

When Frodo entered the room he was seated once more on the bed, holding a length of wine dark silk in his hands. Frodo spotted it and stilled, before lifting his eyes to Sam’s.

“May we?” Sam asked.

“You aren’t tired?” Frodo asked, taking a seat beside him.

“Not anymore. You looked after me so well.”

“Hm,” Frodo studied him smiling.

“Would you like such tonight?” Sam asked. Frodo considered this.

“Yes,” he said and put a hand on Sam’s arm. Sam shivered, excitement lightning through him. He met Frodo’s eyes.

“Will you look after me a bit more?”

“Ah,” Frodo said softly, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Yes, my darling,” he said, and took the silk from Sam.

Sam unlaced his robe and rolled it back over his shoulders, casting a shy look Frodo’s way. Frodo was watching him, spots of color in his cheeks. Sam slipped out of the robe entirely, bare once more and settled on the bed. He lay back, cushioned by pillows, as Frodo bound him to the headboard, adjusting the silk length to hold him firm but not so firm as to be uncomfortable.

“How is that?” Frodo breathed against his bare shoulder.

“Good,” Sam answered, tugging experimentally.

Frodo trailed his hand down Sam’s chest, allowing his thumb to graze a nipple. Sam drew in a breath, and quivered when Frodo didn’t move on, but continued his feather light touch.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sam breathed. Frodo’s eyes took on a sparkle of wickedness. He began to stroke his other nipple. Sam shifted, the pleasure making him lightheaded. Frodo lay down beside him and leaned in against his side and began to nip and kiss along his neck. Sam let out a soft sound and squirmed.

“Keep still,” Frodo told him. Sam obeyed, even as Frodo dropped a hand to stroke up his inner thigh. Sam bit his lip and fought the urge to move. Frodo’s hand was dancing around his cock and the light stroking touches were driving his desperation to a pitch.

“How should it be? Do you want it hard and fast?” Frodo asked in his ear, “I could tup you like this. I love tupping you when you’re bound. And after this evening I think it likely you’ll open easily to me. I can give you a proper pounding that you’ll feel tomorrow.

Or do you want it slow and drawn out? I’ll tease your prick and slip my fingers up you and whisper all the filthiest words in your ear. And I’ll tease you and make you wait to find release.”

Sam let out a soft cry. The fact that he’d not had Frodo’s touch in more than a month only worsened his ability to show restraint. Frodo peered at him, reading him. The hand between his legs moved in to cup and hold his stones, rolling them in his hand. The touch felt very good.

“What do you want, my love?”

“Oh. Slow. Please, slow,” Sam quivered as he said it. Frodo kissed his shoulder, his hand still massaging his balls. There was also something comforting about the firm repetitive motions. Frodo was watching him again and Sam realized he’d begun to roll his hips. He stilled himself and looked into Frodo’s face.

“You are so good,” Frodo said gently. Sam felt his breaths deepen. “So good.” Pleasure laced up into Sam’s heart, filling and warming him. He felt his cock thicken. Frodo smiled, wickedness in his eyes. “Such a pretty thing all bound up in our bed.” His hand moved up to grip Sam’s cock. Sam nearly swooned at the feeling. “I’m a little curious, this isn’t the most restful thing. I’d have thought you would ask for something else.”

“I want to put myself in your hands,” Sam whispered.

“Ah. Of course.” Frodo’s hand slipped away from his cock and Sam had to remind himself not to fidget. “You’ve come back to me a bit changed,” Frodo said slowly.

“Ah?”

“Thicker and stronger. I could feel it when I put my arms around you in the hall.”

“Oh.”

“And when you lay down bare for me, I could see the heartiness you’ve gained, all that harvesting work. Such a strong beautiful hobbit.”

“Oh now,” Sam felt heat rising into his face.

“You are. You test my restraint.”

“You’re teasing me,” Sam quivered.

“Not at all. You’ve got me quite hard already.”

“Frodo,” Sam could feel his ear tips burning. Frodo licked his lips and leaned himself forward, pressing himself to Sam’s side, humping slowly against his leg. “Feel.”

“O-oh.”

“And it’s not only your body that makes me ache. Your good heart and kindness. My dear, everything about you makes me desperate. You were so good, going out and helping with the harvest, so generous and hard working. And you hurried home because you knew I was missing you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Did your cock miss me too?”

“Y-Yes.”

Frodo laughed softly.

“Tell me about it. Did you sneak off to ease it?”

“Um, n-no,” Sam could feel heat back in his cheeks. Frodo saw the blush.

“No?” Frodo pressed, and nipped his shoulder.

“Ah. Would lay in bed,” Sam panted lightly, “wanting to feel your cock in me.” His blush was so hot now, it was flushing all the way down to his chest.

“Would you?” Frodo’s voice was low but Sam could hear the note of heat in it. “What did you do about it?”

“I’d lay on my belly and hump into the mattress, think on how it felt to have you on me, in me. Sometimes I’d get some butter and use it to ease the way for my fingers,” Sam murmured.

“You have lovely fingers,” Frodo breathed.

“They felt good. Pressing in while I rubbed my prick.” Sam could feel his cock throbbing. It was so exciting the way Frodo could draw such words from him. The first time they’d spoken like this, Sam had almost spilled in his pants.

“I’m glad you had time and a place so that you could look after yourself.”

“And you?” Sam asked, excitement making him short of breath.

“While you were gone I took so many long baths. I’d think of the mornings you come to me in my study, when I’m buried in work. And you- naughty thing- get down on your knees and get under my desk and I find myself lost in the most exquisite feeling. It’s such a pleasure to watch the warm morning light come in through my window and creep in among the books, while I’ve got you between my legs, giving me such delightful head for as long as it takes to draw my seed.” Frodo sighed, going on, “so there I was in my bath thinking on those mornings, pumping my cock. It just felt so good I couldn’t help it.”

“No need to try and hold back. It’s so good.”

“Mm. And the bath isn’t the only place I indulged.”

“No?”

To his surprise Frodo blushed.

“I’ll save that story for later, I think,” he laughed.

“Oh dear,” Sam chuckled.

“Right now there are better things for me to do with my mouth,” Frodo breathed. Sam blinked, a flutter of excitement lighting through him. Frodo gave him a smile, then sat up. Sam drew quick panting breaths as Frodo moved down and began to kiss along his side. Sam shook. He pulled against his bonds, and groaned when he felt the soft silk tight against his wrists, holding him. 

Frodo moved his hand down to grip Sam’s cock once more. Sam held his breath shaking, trying not to move. 

“Thrust into my hand. It’s alright. You can move,” Frodo breathed, “That’s it.” Sam whined as he rocked and thrust. Frodo let him work himself up for a time then drew his hand away.

“Ah,” Sam bit back on the sound of protest and stilled himself. He’d asked for this, knew Frodo would tease him viciously. 

“You know I won’t let you come yet.”

“I know,” Sam breathed, feeling a curious dazed feeling sweep over him. 

“And you won’t come on my hand. There is more pleasure than that in store for you.”

“Go on then,” Sam prodded, “Have your way with me.” He’d meant it to sound like a tease but he was too breathless to carry it off. 

“Oh,” Frodo sighed. Sam felt a shiver run through him. “Giving in to me already?”

“I like giving in.”

Frodo’s grip on him tightened and he thrust against Sam’s hip, his cock hot and leaking. He leaned up and sucked gently on Sam’s ear tip. 

“Ah!” Sam cried, quivering as Frodo let him feel the barest hit of teeth at his lobe. 

“You get me so hot I can barely think,” Frodo growled. He pulled himself up and climbed onto Sam, pressing down on him. “Want to feel you like this.”

“You feel good,” Sam whispered. Frodo lifted his face and kissed him. There was such hunger coiled tight in Frodo’s body and in his kiss. It was only working to make Sam more desperate. Frodo pulled back and breathed warm in Sam’s ear. 

“I can feel your cock getting harder,” he whispered. Both their cocks were pinned between them, Sam’s jutting up against Frodo’s belly. 

“Can I move?” Sam asked, breathless and aching to grind against Frodo’s warmth.

“No.”

“Frodo,” Sam protested. 

“You said you wanted slow,” Frodo said wickedly, and began to kiss along his neck. Sam grumbled but held himself still. Frodo tightened his embrace and began to rub against him. Sam let his head fall back.

“Oh lor I’ll not survive this.”

Frodo snorted. They both knew he loved it. 

“I’ll see that you survive, dear,” Frodo kissed his shoulder. Sam smiled at the sudden tenderness, and bent to touch his head to Frodo’s. 

He lay back once more and enjoyed the feeling of Frodo grinding against him. Time slipped by without Sam noticing, until Frodo stilled and climbed off him. He opened his eyes and watched Frodo slip out of his robe and smile at him. His heart swelled. 

Frodo crawled down and settled between his legs. Sam felt his heart quicken. 

“What are you doing down there now?” Sam asked. 

“I’m not finished doing useful things with my mouth.”

“O-oh.”

Frodo bent and let his lips brush the tip of Sam’s cock. 

“You’ve only to say it,” he murmured, “all you have to do is ask, and I’ll give you my mouth. You are so close to that pleasure.” Sam shook. It was a game they played, testing and teasing one another. Sam quivered and kept quiet. “Going to hold out against it? You are so strong willed. I’d have given in by now. Once I feel your warm breath on my prick, it’s all over.” That wasn’t true. Frodo could hold out longer than that. “You have such a beautiful prick, Sam. Won’t you let me suck on it?”

“Mm,” Sam twisted, his heart pounding. 

“That’s it,” Frodo cooed, “such a strong hobbit.” Sam openly panted now. Frodo’s words could do that to him. 

“Just the tip,” Sam gasped out. Frodo smiled and dipped his head down and Sam cried out. He couldn’t help it. Frodo’s mouth was warm and soft on his cockhead. Sam jerked at the pleasure. 

“Glory,” Sam gasped.

“Is my mouth good?” Frodo asked coyly, drawing back to brush his lips against the glans. 

“Yes.”

“May I take you further into my mouth?”

“N-no,” Sam gasped.

“As you like.”

“Aye oh aye,” Sam babbled. Frodo’s mouth on his cock tended to make his wits disappear. He panted, his focus entirely on each delicate lap of Frodo’s tongue on his cockhead. It was ceaseless and reverent and it had him past desperation. He writhed and pushed his hips up, spreading his legs. Frodo looked up, looking into his face. “Please,” Sam panted. 

Frodo didn’t tease him now. He drew away and went for the oil bottle in their nightstand. He moved back, slicking his fingers. 

“Please,” Sam said again.

“Yes, darling,” Frodo purred and slipped oiled fingers down to stroke his opening. Sam shifted his hips up, begging Frodo silently. Frodo met his eyes and slipped a finger in. 

“Oh yes, oh please,” Sam panted.

“There we are,” Frodo murmured and opened his lips allowing Sam’s cock to press into his mouth for a moment then drew off again. His finger stroked in and sent a bolt of sweetness through him. 

“Oh! Oh,” Sam fell back, gasping.

“That’s it,” Frodo soothed, “Do you want to come?”

“Yes. Oh yes, please.”

“Then let me take your cock properly.”

“Aye,” Sam breathed. Frodo bent once more, gripping Sam’s length with his free hand, and took him in his mouth. Sam’s cry was louder than he’d usually let himself be, but he was helpless to stifle himself. Frodo’s mouth was bliss and he took Sam’s cock deep and his fingers moved and stroked and rubbed his sweet spot. The combination of all this on top of all that had come before, overpowered him. Sam was lost to it and with a cry he came hard. 

He lay there panting as he came down, pleasure still throbbing through him. He made a clumsy effort to shift but his legs didn’t work properly. He lay there bewildered and dazed. The bed moved and Frodo was crawling up to the headboard. Sam closed his eyes, his heart pounding. Frodo untied him and took Sam’s wrists, helping him draw his arms down to his chest. He felt a kiss on his cheek. 

Words of love and thanks came to him, but when he tried to speak no words came. Sam felt Frodo curl at his side. He turned and embraced him, pressing a kiss to Frodo’s lips. Frodo sighed happily. He reached down and took himself in hand, his eyes slipping shut in pleasure. Sam watched his face, overwhelmed with love. 

“Would you like a bit of help?” Sam murmured fondly. Frodo’s eyes slipped open. 

“Yes. Put your fingers in me? Hearing you talk got me wanting.”

“If you can wait just a bit you can get something a bit thicker than my fingers.”

“Good heavens, Sam.”

“I’m a virile sort,” Sam snickered into the pillow. That came from a joke between them, sprung from certain off-color comments Frodo had made during one of their first couplings.

“Mm. I know.”

“So is that a yes to...?”

“Yes, please fuck me.”

“Ah,” Sam sputtered a little. Frodo could still catch him off guard sometimes. “Ah. Right then.”

They curled together, kissing and rubbing. Sam reached down and fondled himself, feeling his prick beginning to stir once more. Virility aside, being with Frodo was just so exciting.

It wasn’t long before Frodo turned over and Sam moved behind him. He prepared him, and slicked his own cock. Frodo was less vocal now, but he was flushed and he arched at Sam’s touch, eagerly rocking against his fingers. 

Sam mounted him, folding himself down to grip Frodo’s hips. He moved slowly, rocking. 

“Oh,” Frodo sighed, “that’s such a sweetness.”

Sam grinned and kissed his back, reaching down to grasp Frodo’s cock. Frodo panted and thrust into his hand. Sam firmed his grip and rocked harder, focusing his movements into a rhythm.

“Your cock is so good,” Frodo murmured, breathless. “I could get off just on your cock.”

“Mm. Want me to stop rubbing you?”

“No I do not.”

Sam laughed and fell into the blissful rhythm. Frodo was gasping and moving with him. It wasn’t long before he pitched over the edge and came. Sam heard himself growl and he pumped a few more times before white hot bliss hit him and he spurted his seed into Frodo. 

Sam rested his head against Frodo’s back, panting. He felt a touch as Frodo reached back to stroke his leg. He smiled and kissed his back, hugging him. 

Sam drew them apart and clambered off the bed. He went to the hearth and opened the warm water kettle they kept on the bricks. He took a few handkerchiefs from the stack on Frodo’s desk and dipped them, dabbed at himself with one, then went back to the bed. Frodo took one of the handcherkiefs and cleaned himself as well. 

That taken care of, Sam crawled over and flopped down at Frodo’s side, turning himself so that he could stretch an arm out to lay over the other hobbit’s chest. Frodo curled on his side, cradling Sam’s head close to press kisses to his face. 

“Oh that,” Sam sighed.

“Yes, _that_ ,” Frodo murmured into the still air. Sam chuckled.

“Thank you for looking after me.”

Frodo smiled without opening his eyes and nuzzled him.

“You came back to me.” 

“Always will.”

There were no more words. They dozed together and when they cooled down from their exertions, Frodo drew a blanket over them both. Sleep came then, even as the wind howled cold outside. Inside the cozy bedroom, all was right.


End file.
